Only In Polk: Sources of watery street names not entirely solid

Sunday

Six-year resident of Lakeland, Erin Bryan Sutliff, had interesting questions concerning the naming of Lake Miriam Drive and Lake Seward Drive, and where those lakes were located.

Editor's note: Only in Polk is a new series in The Ledger in which we find answers to readers' questions about life in Polk County.

LAKELAND — Polk County contains 554 lakes, according to the official tally, or roughly one for every 1,173 residents.

It's not clear how many of those bodies of water have inspired the names of local streets. But two roads with water-related names piqued the curiosity of Erin Bryan Sutliff, a Lakeland resident.

"I've lived here for six years,” Sutliff wrote to The Ledger. “How did Lake Miriam Drive and Lake Seward Drive get their names? Where are the lakes? How do you say 'Seward'?"

Sutliff, 37, was born and raised in Sussex County, Delaware, the area where her ancestors had lived for generations.

“Given this, I am fairly well aware of the history behind a lot of local area names, geographical history and road development, and definitely proper pronunciations that set apart natives and non-natives,” Sutliff said by email. “Knowing absolutely no one when I moved here, I do not have that same connection to the area.”

Sutliff, who works at the University of South Florida, moved to Lakeland six years ago, soon to be joined by her husband, Brian. Sutliff said she has investigated the origins of some local names, such as Drane Field Road, but has been unable to find any historical information about Lake Miriam Drive or Lake Seward Drive.

The Ledger set out to find the answers.

Lake Miriam Drive, an east-west artery running from South Florida Avenue to Lakeland Highlands Road, draws its name from a body of water most Lakelanders have probably never glimpsed. Lake Miriam is just east of the Lake Miriam Square shopping center, but it can be seen only if one drives on a narrow lane behind the Publix and other stores.

A high fence blocks access to the lake, and a curtain of vegetation — mostly Brazilian pepper — largely obscures the view of it.

A clearer vantage point is at the eastern terminus of West Alamo Drive. Beware that the spot is the parking lot for a U-Haul dealership and is private property.

The lake can't be seen from Lake Miriam Drive, which is separated from the water to the south by about 400 feet. The campus of Lakeland Highlands Middle School borders the reservoir to the east.

The Ledger found no records to suggest how the body of water acquired its name. It can be said with certainty, though, that it wasn't named by settlers who arrived in the area in the mid-to-late 1800s.

That's because Lake Miriam didn't exist at the time. It isn't a natural lake, but rather a remnant of the phosphate mining that took place throughout southern Lakeland starting in the early 1900s.

Lake Miriam's irregular shape suggests its artificial nature: Seen in aerial photos, it resembles a backward, lower-case “h,” barely attached at its top to a lower-case “m.”

A call to the Florida Industrial and Phosphate Research Institute confirmed that Lake Miriam originated as a series of pits dug for phosphate mining.

Lake Seward Drive is a shorter street, running from Lakeland Highlands Road — just north of the entrance to George Jenkins High School — westward to Live Oak Road, ending about a quarter-mile east of Scott Lake.

The location of Lake Seward, it turns out, is a matter of some disagreement. Local residents pointed a Ledger photographer to a wooded lot northeast of the point where Lake Seward Drive turns north to become Live Oak Road.

Other sources, though, locate Lake Seward well to the east of that spot. The Water Atlas, a resource managed by the University of South Florida, locates “Seward Lake” just north of County Road 540A, about halfway between Pollard Road and Yarborough Lane. That location is just west of a two-story house once occupied by country singers George Jones and Tammy Wynette.

The Water Atlas lists the lake as 2.67 acres, with no mean depth or volume given. In an undated aerial photo on Google Maps, though, the place appears as a mostly dry pasture.

The label for “Seward Lake” on the Google Maps image is about a quarter-mile north, on the other end of a low-lying pasture. That area also appears dry in the aerial photo.

In a summer of record rains, though, water has collected at the place Google Maps identifies as “Seward Lake,” just west of Oakmont Lane. On a recent afternoon, water appeared to cover at least 3 acres of the topographical declivity.

The water partially submerged a large shed on the lake's north end and an abandoned tennis court behind a house on Oakmont Lane. A purple martin birdhouse on a pole rose a few feet above the surface at the center of the lake.

Water covered part of a fence running along the border of that yard, where a group of white ibises gathered. It was obvious the liquid level was unusually high: Water surrounded the trunks of a few oak and palm trees, vegetation that can't survive in perpetual wetness.

While Lake Seward itself is a transient body, its name evokes deep local history. As Fort Meade native Canter Brown Jr. details in his book, “In the Midst of All That Makes Life Worth Living: Polk County to 1940,” two families headed by Zachariah G. Seward and Henry S. Seward migrated from Mississippi to what is now South Lakeland in the 1850s.

They settled at a place along the watery spot, which lay on an old military road running from Fort Brooke in present-day Tampa to Fort Fraser, just east of what is now Bartow Road. In his book, Brown refers to the reservoir as “Seward's Lake.”

As Brown writes, Zachariah Seward served as a Baptist preacher, and his family brought as many as a dozen slaves with them. (Thanks to LuAnn Mims, special collections librarian at the Lakeland Public Library, for directing The Ledger to Brown's book.)

Sutliff also asked about the pronunciation of “Seward.” “Is it 'Sue–ARD' as many seem to say or 'Sew-Ard' or something else entirely?” she wrote.

The Ledger took the unscientific approach of consulting two residents of Lake Seward Drive. Both said they pronounce the name “SOO-erd.”

In her email, Sutliff explained her interest in the stories behind geographical names.

“Learning some of the rationales behind the names — and certainly the proper way to say them — gives us a tiny glimpse into the history of this area and into the lives of all those who lived here before,” Sutliff wrote. “I suppose it's a way of respecting where we live and helping to preserve its legacy.”

Gary White can be reached at gary.white@theledger.com or 863-802-7518. Follow on Twitter @garywhite13.

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